


A Different Sort of Conversation

by MadMarquis



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Canon, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, I just want my OC to have a canon version of this scene that makes sense, M/M, Spoilers, This author doesn't understand categories and stuff, does this count as
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:26:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26627470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadMarquis/pseuds/MadMarquis
Summary: Emory Hawke, known apostate and Champion of Kirkwall, watches the love of his life obliterate a holy building, and is... not all that upset, far from it in fact. The revolution is finally here, and he's ready to burn the whole city if he has to.Despite my best efforts, I could not have the post-boom scene go a way that was satisfying and IC to the Hawke I had been crafting, so here's the scene that I am just going to declare canon for this particular character's story. Enjoy my self-indulgence.
Relationships: Anders/Male Hawke
Comments: 6
Kudos: 22





	A Different Sort of Conversation

“There can be no turning back.”

Such simple words, spoken in quiet resignation, could not adequately prepare one for what would immediately follow. The only true warning was the shaking of the ground, a steadily increasing rumble that culminated in bright, devastating light that pierced the earth and expanded out through the Chantry’s windows, as desperate to escape that so-called holy place as the mage serving as its catalyst.

Hawke stared, his widened eyes drinking in the destruction as chunks of stone were sent soaring over the city, bathing the sky in dust and the leaving a lingering taste of magic in the air. For just a moment, all was silent.

“There can be no peace.”

Rose-colored eyes reluctantly shifted their focus away from the wreckage to rest on the source of that resolute voice, even as Sebastian’s wail of grief sliced through the air from the opposite direction. There he was, his love, standing solemnly amid a crowd of horrified faces gathered at the base of this monument to their mission. Instinct drove Hawke forward, and hands that so rarely knew gentleness softly alighted upon feathered shoulder and weary face, guiding those sad eyes to meet his own. There were too many thoughts running through his mind to properly voice any, but for the moment, he hoped the adoration and devotion in his gaze would be enough.

The speeches and bickering of everyone else assembled were meaningless static to his ears; it had all been said before, and the time for talk had already long passed. It wasn’t until the Knight-commander evoked the Right of Annulment that his focus returned to the verbal battlefield. He felt Anders inhale slowly, preparing for what he assumed would be a defense of his actions, but Hawke found himself speaking up first.

“Are you truly prepared for war, Meredith?”

His voice was calm and measured, a final offer of mercy cutting through the pleas of the First Enchanter. They had said all that needed to be said. All that was left was to make a proper declaration.

He kept his eyes locked on hers, but out of the corner of his eye he couldn’t help but notice Anders’ shocked expression. Was it truly so surprising that after everything they’d been through already, he’d still stand at his side now? All the fragile, emotional bits of himself wished desperately that they could freeze time and have a moment together to process what was happening, but he knew it would have to wait until the situation was less dire.

“Are you, Champion?”

Her response elicited a dismayed objection from Carver. “Don’t do this, brother. I don’t want to fight you.”

A raised eyebrow. “That’s new; I thought you’d be eager to face me on the battlefield.”

Hawke had expected, _demanded_ , anger from that statement, but instead, Carver simply looked crushed, as if he couldn’t fathom how the two of them had gotten to this point, and for the first time in awhile a bit of grief and regret pierced his heart. But that was yet another problem for another time; brushing aside the siblings’ confrontation, Meredith continued undaunted.

“Kill them all! I will rouse the rest of the order!”

In an instant, the tense calm that had held the group together shattered, and flames burst forth onto the battlefield. A low growl rumbled in Hawke’s throat as Meredith fled out of range of his magic, but that bloodlust was soon satiated by the templars she had abandoned. The battle was swift and decisive, leaving only the smell of burnt flesh and steel to wage a war of attrition against the survivors’ senses.

The weary voice of the First Enchanter was the first to strike back against the heavy, post-battle stillness.

“So, it’s come to this… I don’t know if we can win this war, Champion, but… thank you.”

The thanks were almost accepted, but before he could say as much, Orsino offered a disdainful look in Anders’ direction, and he added, “I will leave your… friend for you to deal with. I must return to the Gallows, meet me there as soon as you can.”

And so, Hawke was left with his allies, all wearing their own feelings towards what had just occurred in their faces and body language, and his love, awaiting judgement. He knew some of them were expecting retribution in the form of Anders’ blood, but he would deal with them, and their unanswerable demands, later; he watched as Anders moved to sit on a nearby crate, shoulders slouched and head hung in exhaustion, self-loathing, and defeat. If they were going to have a moment to process, it would have to be now.

Quietly, Hawke approached, stopping to kneel on blood-soaked earth in front of him so that they were nearly eye to eye. Anders raised his head to look at him, his tumultuous, raw emotions laid bare across his face.

“You… why? You didn’t even hesitate…” A trembling hand slowly found its way to Hawke’s face, resting reverently against his cheek, looking for all the world like he was shocked to discover that he was real and not some sort of apparition from the Fade. Hawke reached up to place his hand atop Anders’, gently entwining their fingers.

“I love you.” The declaration was so painfully simple, said with such power that one could almost believe it was the only answer needed, but he continued. “Everything you’ve been saying, everything you’ve done… for the first time in my life I’ve felt truly understood.”

“But… I lied to you, I used you! How can you just… say that? Like it’s that easy!"

The way his voice broke nearly mirrored itself upon Hawke’s heart, and he squeezed the hand held within his own tighter, as if he was afraid his lover’s own self-hatred might drive him to pull away.

“It _is_ easy. Nothing I’ve done in my life has ever been easier than loving you.”

Anders sucked in a sharp, shuddering breath at those words, and all attempts to form a response that could convey the depth of his emotions fell short and died on his lips. Eventually, the corners of his mouth raised ever so slightly in what passed as a smile from him these days, and even as tears welled up and spilled down his face, he joked, “I’m not sure if I should feel honored, or just concerned about the kind of life you must have had.”

“Probably a bit of both.”

A ragged half-laugh escaped his lips, paving the way for a sob as he let his head fall forward to rest his forehead against Hawke’s. Teary amber eyes met his resolute gaze, so close he almost went cross-eyed looking at them; he had no idea how he’d managed to find such a kindred soul, but it was clear in that look that his love had no intention of letting the connection they’d built slip away. He ran his thumb gently across his cheek, tracing the crimson ink captured beneath his skin, the image of chains streaming down his face serving as a testament to their struggle. He should have known he’d stand by him in this. The same fire burned in both their veins.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you what I was planning. I thought… I expected them to arrest me, or execute me; if you had knowingly helped me, they… they would have taken you down with me, and I couldn’t let that happen.”

“Well, it looks like we’ve gone far past that point now. They’re just gonna kill us all and call it a day.”

“Apparently so.”

A moment of silence passed between them, and held fast even as the remaining distance between them was finally closed with a soft kiss. No matter what happened, no matter how much more they had to pay or how much blood had to be spilled, they would have each other. It was a nostalgic sort of selfishness, tempered this time by a common goal; they would fight for each other _and_ the mages at the same time, for their love was built upon the fires of revolution that Justice so fervently demanded. Everything had come together into a proper whole at last.

No more words passed between them, even after they reluctantly pulled away from the embrace. There was no need to say anything else. It was time for action.

Hawke rose to his feet, drawing his staff with his free hand, as the other seemed determined to stay anchored to Anders’. He stared down his companions, and made his judgement known.

“The only one I’m executing today is the Knight-commander herself. If you have a problem with this, now is your chance to leave.”

As expected, Sebastian turned his back on them, fists clenched in indignation as he tossed a final threat over his shoulder. “You’ll regret this. I’ll be back.” As he stalked off into the night, Hawke braced himself for others to do the same.

But one by one, his remaining companions affirmed their decision to stay and fight by his side. It was a relief that he would not have to face any of them today, despite having resigned himself to the possibility. He could only pray that when he caught up to Carver, his brother would make the same choice. He was prepared to do what had to be done, but that didn’t mean he would enjoy it.

A deep breath. One final moment of calm before the storm. Then he raised his staff, pointing it out at the city, where the sounds of combat had already begun.

“To the Gallows!”


End file.
